A/N: For Dearka and Yzak. For ZAFT! For crack fanfiction. For complete spontaneity and nonsensical, random indulgence! Mostly though… for strawberries. :P
Dearka lounged on the sofa. One leg hung draped over the worn cushions, while his free foot dangled and bounced to some inner melody. Yzak watched him from the corner of his eye in his spot at the kitchen table, where he was rifling through a mound of documents. Documents that - once he thought about it - were not half as interesting as the sight of the reclining blonde. With a sigh of distraction, he twisted around in his chair and pasted a sneer onto his pale features.
"Do you ever do anything useful with your life, Elsman, or is being lazy your forte?"
The blonde lifted his head from the crook of his arm and grinned mischievously. "I think it's just that you can't concentrate with me sitting here this way, looking like I've got nothing better to do than wait for you to be finished so we can finally have some fun." Yzak's face went crimson, and Dearka's tone grew cheekier. "You don't have to hide it, Joule. I know my being here is a threat to the completion of your paperwork, but you'll have to fight those waves of desire and be patient." Then he winked.
Yzak sprung up from his chair, livid and furious for allowing Dearka to carry on. "As if I'd sacrifice my work for your sorry carcass, Elsman," he hissed with poison on his tongue.
Dearka rolled impishly off the sofa and crossed to the kitchen much faster than Yzak Joule expected. The blonde seized him around the waist and swept him forward until their hips were forced together. The silver head's breath hitched at the contact, and soon enough he found himself within inches of Dearka's handsome face.
"What about now, Joule?" Dearka breathed, that accursed defiant curve gracing those firm, alluring lips. "What about now? You sick of working yet?"
Yzak - though feeling his inner core clench and his body react to the warm sensation of Dearka against him – managed to grit his teeth and spit a caustic reply. "Not in your wildest dreams, Elsman. Let me go."
Apparently he'd said the wrong thing, for now the blonde was smirking triumphantly.
"You want to know something about my wildest dreams, Yzak?" The grin expanded, amused now. "Why don't you let me illustrate to you the potency of my bedtime fantasies?"
Before Yzak could process the well-spoken line, Dearka was kissing him. The silver head was backed against the table; he felt his thighs strike wooden edges. His hands flew down to grip the tabletop, and he squeezed until his knuckles turned white. Dearka kissed him as though he might consider a slow, languid tango right there in the kitchen for lack of patience. Then he was using his tongue.
Yzak went dizzy in stages, with a reluctant pleasure that only festered the longer the blonde slid his tongue over his lips, inside his mouth, in and out with dangerous indulgence. A wanton moan threatened to break from the silver-haired male's throat, though he fought it with all his might. Then suddenly…
He tasted something fruity.
Yzak growled a command for Dearka to release him, though it pained him to do so. He had to clear his head with two deep breaths before he could think straight.
"Dearka." He closed his eyes and prayed for tolerance. "Why in hell do you taste like strawberries?"
At that moment, Yzak Joule wished he had never asked. Any other day, the silver head would have sworn that it was impossible for the blonde to instill in him such a sense of frightening irony. However, Dearka's winning grin now succeeded in doing so. Yzak watched in terror as, from the blonde's back pocket, a crinkling plastic package of licorice appeared and paraded before his nose.
"Strawberry flavor," was all Dearka said. Then he pulled another red strand from the bag and gnawed on it deliberately.
Yzak sputtered. "Th-that stuff again! It'll make your teeth fall out. It doesn't even taste good, so why the hell do you always have it around?"
"Why do you ask when you already know the answer?"
The silver head let loose a wordless shriek of outrage and distanced himself from the opposite Coordinator with a murderous flash of his eyes. When he regained his ability to speak, he folded his arms across his chest.
"I just don't get it, Elsman. A liking for strawberries to this degree is absolutely not an attractive quality, I'll have you know."
Dearka was unfazed. "Are you just jealous of my second favorite passion?"
"No."
"Annoyed, because you really wanted to taste me but you got strawberry instead?"
"No."
Pause.
"You sure?"
Yzak exploded. "For the love of ZAFT, Elsman! So what if I do resent your fucking strawberries?"
His chest heaved with exertion. Dearka burst into a set of loud guffaws, doubling over with the hilarity of Yzak's confession. The silver head supposed that he should have held his tongue, but he was boiling like a vengeful pot set to bubble over.
"It's out of control, Dearka. I'll prove it to you."
That seductive grin was back on the blonde's face, and Yzak had to struggle not to let his resolution melt. "I think you're just making a big deal out of nothing, Yzak."
The silver-haired male gritted his teeth. "We'll see about that."
A/N: Oh no. Make way for Yzak's almighty punishment. Stay tuned, because this will be a series of short little encounters.
A review with any criticism would be appreciated, since I rarely brave the realm of humor. DEARKA AND HIS LOVE OF ALL THINGS STRAWBERRY FOREVER!